


An Arrangement

by riddikulusgrin (klavgavtrash)



Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Eliza's POV, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klavgavtrash/pseuds/riddikulusgrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On seeing the relationship between Alexander and Laurens, Eliza suggests they enter a somewhat unconventional relationship.<br/>(A relationship study, of sorts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> This uses the chronology of the musical rather than actual history, because I'm a Brit and my knowledge of American history is truly shocking. All historical inaccuracies are unintentional but please just go with them!

Eliza, Alexander and Laurens had something of an arrangement. It was not, Eliza didn’t think, one she would ever have imagined entering, nor was it one she would have indulged in for anyone other than Alexander Hamilton. 

But, for all of Angelica’s teasings and questioning and genuine concern, Eliza had no doubt that Alexander was truthful when he told her in no uncertain terms that he loved her. No man, no matter how good he was with his words, could lie so convincingly. No man would take as much effort, surely, as Alexander did in winning her affections and convincing her of his love if it were all for show.

She was not stupid. She knew that she was rich, and it was her father’s money which had initially made her desirable in Alexander’s eyes. She knew that if she were a poor serving girl, for example, he would not have been so quick to talk of marriage. But then again, she also knew he had tempted many other women into his bed before her, and none of them, she was sure, had been made promises so open and heartfelt as those written by Alexander to her. (So open, in fact, that she had been forced to hide - or even burn - a few before they were gazed upon by anyone other than Angelica and herself. She doubted her father would not respond so kindly if he knew of the heavily lewd tone of one or two of her lover’s letters.)

But back to Laurens. John Laurens, whom Eliza had never officially met until her wedding day - and then, her wedding night. She did not mind his company, and had been told by both Alexander and those of his friends whom she had met, that the two came as a pair. 

Laurens was kind, and smiled at her Alexander as though he were the sun. He was perfectly civil towards her, if a little cold when they had initially met. This, she assumed, was to be expected considering his history with Alexander, what she was set to destroy between them by agreeing to be his bride. But of course, Laurens’ fears never came to pass.

In simple terms, they shared. 

They had agreed this during the wedding, after the speeches by the best man and maid of honour, where her sweet sister looked upon their joined hands with a pained expression that left Eliza with a sudden, maddening guilt. And Laurens, too, shared that pained expression when he gave his speech. One look at Alexander, and his face shadowed, the quiet sadness of his expression mirrored in Alexander’s own. It would not do, she thought, for the husband and best man to both be so melancholy on a day of celebration, even if her sweet husband’s eyes had brightened the moment he looked back to her. 

With Alexander out of earshot, concerned with an argument with Aaron Burr, Eliza pounced.

“Miss Schuyler?” said Laurens, the picture of surprise, “Are you all right?”

“Mrs Hamilton,” she corrected. To use the name out loud was so much more exciting than she’d expected, but now was not the time, “And I believe I should be asking you that,” she said, laughing lightly.

As if on cue, Laurens glanced at Alexander, still arguing with Burr across the ballroom. He was red-faced, drink in hand, and Laurens’ response was tinted with absolute fondness, “If he is happy, then I’ll be.” 

“And therein lies the issue,” said Eliza, looping her arm in Laurens’ and leaning in conspiratorially, “For I don’t think my Alexander can be truly happy until he’s quite sure that you are.” 

Laurens made no effort to walk her about the room, and since their arms were already linked, Eliza took the initiative. Really, she had to organise everything with these men. “I think…” Laurens tapered off, and Eliza raised her eyebrows encouragingly, “I think you’re a good match for him,” he said. 

“We are married,” she pointed out, because it may not have been the time, and she may have meant to be comforting Laurens about this marriage, but honestly the chance to say it was too great to point out. Married. To Alexander. 

“Congratulations,” said Laurens, again, sounding just as hollow as he had in his toast. 

“Are you married, Mr Laurens?” she asked sweetly, and Laurens coloured. Yes, then.

“She lives in England, with our daughter,” he said and then, as though he needed to justify something, “I write to her often.” 

“I’m sure you do,” said Eliza, and this - this was her moment. But how to broach the subject as delicately as was required? And in such a room full of people. There was only one thing for it, “Am I right in my assumption you are unfaithful?” 

Laurens ripped his arm from Eliza’s grasp, spluttering incoherently, and Eliza tried not to sigh. That could have gone better. Nobody looked in their direction though, so she felt it was probably safe to continue, “I’m not judging. I’m merely curious.” 

Laurens wiped sweaty palms on his breeches, “I’ve not touched another woman.”

There was not going to be a better opening, and with their discourse already slipping further than was socially acceptable for mere acquaintances, she went in for the kill. “I wasn’t suggesting you were unfaithful with other _women_.”

Almost automatically, Laurens glanced towards Alexander. She followed his gaze, and when he turned his head back to hers she raised her eyebrows meaningfully, letting her lips curl. She had been right. What had she interrupted by entering Alexander’s orbit? Before Laurens had a chance to say anything else, to deny it, Eliza let her smile turn conspiratorial. She leaned in very close once again, and murmured, so quietly there could be no chance of anyone overhearing, “We could share him?” 

The wedding night, Eliza later decided, was all the better for letting Laurens know she had guessed their little secret. There would be time enough to have Alexander all to herself, but having already shared with him many acts that would have made Peggy shriek to have heard, missing out on the final consummation was not so bad. 

There were definite benefits to sharing a bed with two men so grateful for her acceptance, so sorry for having kept the nature of their relationship secret from her. She became quite the centre of attention, after all.

*

And so, the arrangement was formed. When Laurens left on wartime business some time later, Alexander was solely hers for as long as he remained in New York. He showered her with affection, with words of love so genuine it made her feel scandalous to even think of them in public. 

He apologised, over and over, for his relationship with Laurens. For assuming she would react poorly so saying nothing at all. He promised that, on meeting her, his relationship with the man had come to something of a forced closure anyway. 

He laughed aloud when she told him the story of how she had figured it out. “Are we really so helpless?” he asked, when she explained their longing glances had been what had given them away. 

Eliza found that she didn’t mind her own words of love being echoed back as much as she thought she would have. Maybe because yes, she assumed that Alexander and Laurens must have been quite helplessly fond of each other to be unable to resist their feelings.

“You are,” she said, “but you must know I forgive you for keeping this secret.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Alexander, for what must have been near the hundredth time, “For putting you in this position.”

Eliza tried not to giggle at the words. Alexander, it must be said, had already put her in a great many positions, and she had put him in many too, in the very bed they now lie in, staring at each other in the darkness. 

“I want you to be happy,” she said, “and you could never be happy with just me. Monogamy is not in your nature.” The words hurt to say out loud, but only the tiniest bit, “Just promise always to tell me, and promise me you will never share your bed with anyone but Laurens or I.” 

Alexander nodded sombrely. “There is nobody I would ever wish to be with but you or John, my dear Eliza.” 

“Good,” she said, snuggling deeper into the bed covers, “then I’m content.” She closed her eyes, intending to sleep, but Alexander was not finished. Apparently, he was determined to beat himself up over this - as though with Laurens gone he was finally beginning to consider the implications and possible consequences of the arrangement Eliza had suggested. As though she hadn't already thought them through and decided it was worth it.

“And if word of my infidelity spreads?” he whispered, clearly aggrieved by the thought. 

“Then you’ll write a pamphlet on it,” she murmured, “and it will be so long, and inspiring and convincing that the whole matter will blow over,” her eyes drooped sleepily, “but we can discuss this another time, go to sleep, Alexander.”

She did not know if he closed his eyes then or lay in bed thinking the matter over for hours more, but he whispered her sweet dreams as she drifted off, and she felt warm in his arms. 

*

 When Alexander returned to war, as she knew he was eager to do, Eliza felt a little better knowing he would at least not be alone at night while he faced the atrocities that came with battle. He wrote her letters of their failures, of Washington’s leadership and his continued refusal to entrust him with command of his own battalion. 

She did not understand either Alexander or Laurens’ fascination and preoccupation with leading troops into war. There were many topics, discussed around the dinner table when Laurens was their house guest and bed guest, that did fascinate her, however. 

She knew that she was not as smart as her sister, nor was she as well educated as either of the men at the table. But the latter was a matter to do with the opportunities of her sex, not of her intelligence, and she found she could keep up with and even contribute to most of the men’s conversation. (And when she could not, a quiet cough was all that was needed to remind Laurens of her presence. He would then try and steer Alexander to an easier topic, not always a simple feat when her husband grew particularly passionate about an issue.) She would now, for example, categorise herself as something of an abolitionist. 

With Alexander and Laurens both gone, however, she was back to the company of only her immediate family whom she visited most meal-times. She mentioned Laurens, once or twice, over the course of one meal, and her elder sister looked at her with something like shock. 

Naturally, Angelica cornered her about it the first moment she could. “What is your fascination with our dear Alexander’s Mr Laurens?” she asked. 

Eliza didn’t mind it when Laurens or any of his friends called Alexander by his first name. She had even heard Burr use it on occasion. But somehow, it irked her hearing how casually her sister used it. Like it was her right as she had met him first. 

“There’s nothing to it,” she said, “but I would consider him my good friend, too.” 

Angelica folded her arms. “Oh, really?”

Eliza folder her own, “Yes.” She never argued with her sister, but the small seed of jealousy that was never there when Alexander looked at Laurens was there when she thought of her sister’s relationship with him. It was irrational. She had Alexander’s word he wouldn’t stray from their trio.

Angelica, however, did not want to argue. She just sought out Eliza’s hand,s making her uncross her arms to hold her hands in her own. “Be safe, Eliza.”

For a moment, the expression that crossed her sister’s face was so wise Eliza wondered if she knew. But then, who could possibly imagine something like their arrangement? It was so deviant, though it never felt like it.

Angelica said no more on the matter, and Eliza was grateful. She’d never been good at keeping secrets from Angelica, mostly as they knew each other’s minds so well there had never been any reason or point to do so. But this secret was not just her’s to keep.

In fact, there was very little in her relationship with Alexander that she did confide in her sister about, until the moment she realised she was over a week late. 

She didn’t even need to say the words. She just gestured, helplessly, at her own stomach and Angelica was swooping her up into a gleeful hug. A baby. Alexander’s baby, a concrete being tying the two of them together, a life all of her own. 

But she couldn't tell him. Not yet, when he was in the middle of war. He couldn't find out by letter, she wouldn’t allow it. But, Angelica reasoned, she had to tell him somehow, and there was no guarantee of his return any time soon. 

With Angelica by her side, she drafted a letter to George Washington, begging him to send her husband home.

*

She heard all about the duel with Charles Lee, was almost as relieved as Alexander himself that Laurens left the confrontation alive. 

When she told Alexander she was with child, for the first time she thought he was not thinking about war, or congress, or the state of America. He was thinking of their family. Their future. One which Eliza found herself including Laurens in. 

“John has left for South Carolina,” said Alexander over dinner. He was late, sipping at soup already cold as Eliza cleared up her own plate and bustled around the kitchen as he spoke. But she stopped when he said this, turning to look at him. 

“Oh? When did you hear?”

“His letter,” said Alexander, staring into his bowl. She should have guessed as much - there were only two people whose letters would be guaranteed to delay Alexander to the table. General Washington, and his dear Laurens, whose letters he read with a hungry expression and a twinkle in his eye. 

“South Carolina?” she asked, questioningly, and Alexander nodded. 

“He’s to fight two battles at once: the war against the British, and the war against slavery.” 

Eliza put down her washrag and sat back down at the table, reaching for Alexander’s hand. “Does he know when he’ll return?”

“No,” said Alexander, “but he promises to write.” 

There was, thought Eliza, no more to be said on the matter. But she did note, over the coming weeks, that once again Alexander became restless, anxious to return to the battlefield even though General Washington himself had sent him back to Eliza. 

She was unsurprised. She knew the lure of herself and his potential family would only keep Alexander tethered for so long. As long as there was a war to fight, he would want to be where it was being fought. And with Laurens away his recklessness increased. 

“You’re to stay alive,” she told him firmly, when Washington’s inevitable letter asking for his return to the front lines arrived, “you’re to stay alive for me and for Laurens, and for our son.” 

“Phillip,” murmured Alexander, a hand on her swollen abdomen. They had decided on the name, if it were to be a boy, together.  

And he was gone, and she was left to worry. 

This was when Lauren’s first letter arrived. 

_“My dearest, Eliza,”_ he began it. How improper, she thought, to begin a letter as such.

_“I cannot begin to thank you enough for your generosity in allowing my presence in your home and in your marriage.”_ Scandalous. She would have to burn it, no question about it. _“I hear our” -_ our, how the use of the word made her blush - _“Alexander has finally been given the command he craves. I know he will do a good job. Far better than one other I could mention…”_ Charles Lee. She found herself smiling at Lauren’s youthful indignation, _“But my sole reason for writing is on the exciting news that, having reached me through Alexander, I wish to hear confirmed from you too: you are with child!”_

The rest of the letter was heartfelt congratulations on her pregnancy and bemoaning the slowness of his progress. It was the first correspondence from him where Alexander was sidelined, where the focus was on the emergent friendship between the two of them. 

She wrote back in similarly friendly tones, assuring him that his place in their bed would remain upon his return from South Carolina. She had become, she realised, quite fond of his continued presence in their lives, and when his letters became sparser and then stopped entirely, she found herself frustrated and a little hurt. She did not yet know the reason why. 

*

Phillip Hamilton was a happy healthy baby with eyes like his father’s, and she had no doubt a brain to match that of Angelica’s if not Alexander’s. He was inquisitive, bright-eyed and beautiful. She was enamoured, and when Alexander returned from Yorktown, the war won, so was he. 

But their joy did not last. When news reached them of John’s death, Alexander wiped the tears from her eyes and took the letter from her shaking hands. 

He maintained a brave face until that evening when, safe in the security of their shared bed, Alexander wept. She held his shaking body as he convulsed with sobs, she smoothed a hand through his hair and murmured reassurances as he fell apart in her arms.

She tolerated it when Alexander threw himself so thoroughly into his work, knowing it was a coping mechanism for the loss of a dear friend. She spent time with Angelica who, while puzzled by the intensity of Eliza’s grieve and the length of time in which she wore her mourning, never asked why Laurens' passing had had such an effect. She did not know if her sister knew of the true arrangement, how near the end she had begun to care for Laurens as much as any woman could for a man who was not her husband. 

She was sure nobody but herself, however, saw the intense effect it had on Alexander. From the day of receiving that dreaded letter, he would barely speak of his deceased lover. He threw himself into the law, and then into politics, and then into the arms of one Maria Reynolds. 

When John Laurens died, Alexander and Eliza Hamilton were never quite the same.

 


End file.
